Long ago, I stood as a sentinel of the forest, my trunk a pillar of strength, my branches a bridge between earth and sky. But time and silence have hollowed me, and now I crumble. My spirit seeps out, no longer bound, flowing like golden threads into the lives that surround me.
Energy is a living thing here, a luminous fiber that seeks the strongest pulse of life. My form is a tapestry stretched too far—one rotten knot, and the grand pattern dissolves. Yet, even in my unraveling, I give; each fragment of my being becomes a spark, a gift that feeds another, carrying the memory of who I was into the world anew.
Black ink
£700.8
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Long ago, I stood as a sentinel of the forest, my trunk a pillar of strength, my branches a bridge between earth and sky. But time and silence have hollowed me, and now I crumble. My spirit seeps out, no longer bound, flowing like golden threads into the lives that surround me.
Energy is a living thing here, a luminous fiber that seeks the strongest pulse of life. My form is a tapestry stretched too far—one rotten knot, and the grand pattern dissolves. Yet, even in my unraveling, I give; each fragment of my being becomes a spark, a gift that feeds another, carrying the memory of who I was into the world anew.
Black ink
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